


Dear Sara Murphy

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Milo Murphy's Law, Phineas and Ferb
Genre: F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lies, Loss of Parent(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sara Murphy doesn't like Dr. Doofenshmirtz, and wishes he'd go away. But when he does, a chain reaction leads her to become a prevaricator like no other.





	1. Prologue

“Ugh, mom…” Sara groaned, covering her face now exposed to powerful rays of morning sunlight. The crisp golden warmth may have been pleasant if it weren’t for the fact that Sara wanted nothing more than to return to sleep. “It isn’t even a school day…”

About to leave the room with the door opened, Mama Murphy sang from the doorway, “No excuse to sleep all day, honey. Are you doing okay…?” Slithering out of her bed in hostility, Sara whined wordlessly. Mama Murphy took this as a no. “Have you been writing those positive letters to yourself, honey? Dr. Brenner said to tell yourself ‘today is gonna be a good day, and here’s why’.” 

“Right, I almost forgot about my best friend Dr. Brenner,” Sara mocked her mother insensitively. 

A sigh escaped Mama Murphy’s lips before she promptly strolled out of the doorway and back into the hall. Alone, and distraught, Sara leapt over to her computer desk and began typing. “Dear… Sara Murphy…” She spoke aloud as she typed up on her keyboard.

_Dear Sara Murphy,_

_I know it hasn't been easy on you lately. Everyone tends to ignore you sometimes, and you don’t have as many friends as you’d like. But if you take your time, and be kind to yourself, everything will be all right. Don’t sweat the small things. And even in the darkest moments, try to find peace with what light remains._

She gazed into her screen, deeply rereading her letter to herself. It looked like cliché slam poetry to her, and that made her unhappy. Sara inched her index finger towards the delete button. And she accidentally printed the document. Great. The family printer, which was not in her room, could be heard in the distance whirring and clicking. She rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to facepalm at herself.

Sara preferred not to move too much yet, but planned on getting it later. Yet she forgot.

***

“Wow, what’s this?” Doofenshmirtz said to literally nobody, retrieving a single paper from the the printer. “Dear Sara Murphy… oh, this is a fax? In 2019? Hey, is this a fax?” No one was nearby to reply to him as he rambled to himself. “Okay… guess it’s a fax. Definitely.” He folded it neatly and slipped it into his pocket. Despite intending to give it to Sara, he didn’t, and forgot of it entirely.

What no one knew and expected was that this would lead to a tragic web of lies. A sequence of events so dismal, so unfortunate, that it seems unfair how it all began. One accidental click of the print command key, one forgotten delivery. And one fit of heart palpitations.


	2. One and Done

Sara Murphy was tired of Doofenshmirtz’s unnecessary presence in her home. She was tired of him ruining and stealing her things. She was tired of his unfunny, slightly demeaning sense of humor. And she was tired of being scolded for scolding _his_ bad behavior. It was like Mama Murphy dismissively believed her daughter had been playing a game of “he started it” with the zany houseguest.

That’s the other thing. Doofenshmirtz had long overstayed his welcome, as typically houseguests don’t linger for over a month. _I hope soon he’ll finally be gone,_ Sara thought bitterly, sitting on the edge of her bed. Certainly she would hear as soon as he left, considering her family had warmed up to him. They would probably greatly despair if he so much as said he was going out of town for a weekend. 

Currently, the Murphy parents were out Christmas shopping, and had left Doofenshmirtz “in charge”. Sara thought that was ridiculous and offensive, considering she’d normally be in charge. Seeing someone become so beloved to Sara's family that she already battled to receive attention from made her indescribably angry. Maybe people unfairly judge her anger, believing that it’s selfish or petty to be so upset over someone else's attention. She knew that was the likely response, and that she was expected to cave and appreciate his company and respect him. That wasn’t what she felt like doing, no matter what people thought.

She slipped into cute black socks with blue and red shapes ringed around the ankle. One of her favorite pairs, which she always was extra gentle with in the hopes of preserving it for the longest amount of time possible. Nearly the moment she finished putting her socks on, she heard something that made her anxiety peak immediately.

“AAAAAAAAAH!” Rang a horrible, jarring shriek from downstairs. It sounded like her little brother Milo, but the distortion caused by its volume made Sara unsure. As panic and adrenaline set in, she stood herself up with wobbly legs, shooting out of her door and discovering what the commotion was about.

Doofenshmirtz had seemingly been unmoving and unresponsive, laying on the Murphys’ couch. Nothing filled Sara and her brother with more dread. Already, regrets were high for Sara, who wished that Doofenshmirtz would leave. She never meant it like that.

“No, don’t freak out! I’m going to call the police,” Sara promised Milo, running back to her room and lunging into her cellphone, not even wasting time on her lock screen and opting for the emergency call feature. It would be the first time she ever had to use it. And she could only pray that it’d be the last.

“Hello, 911? A family friend is unconscious on the couch, I don’t think he’s all right, and I really need help!” She stammered quickly, her whole body trembling with fear. 

“Okay, we’ll send someone now. Where do you live?”

Then began a long process of questions, except it wasn't long at all. It just felt long because the circumstances of the situation were so oppressive and terrifying. _This might be the first death to occur around me,_ Sara mused grimly. The grotesque thought was so scary she tried to wipe it from her mind. But it wouldn’t go away, like she knew that Doofenshmirtz was inevitably dead. It could even be considered her fault, since she didn’t know how to perform CPR, an often vital part of life-saving. 

When the ambulance finally arrived, Sara was holding Milo’s shoulders, hoping to some higher entity that everything was all right. However, the first responder who had just checked Doofenshmirtz’s pulse looked to Sara and Milo Murphy with a look of anguish. 

Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz was dead.


	3. Late Night Reaction

The impression of Sara’s body had sunk into her memory foam mattress. She had been lying still for quite some while, crying into her pillow. Admittedly, she knew she wasn’t missing Doofenshmirtz, she just felt accountable. Accountable because she had longed for his absence, and was granted her wish in the most backhanded way.

Finally lifting her messy face up off of her pillow, she tiredly brought her cellphone to her face. Its light was set very low, but her room was completely dark, black closed curtains and all. So even the lowest brightness spread illumination to her entire room. She opened the lock screen, checking her messages immediately. Her one confidant in the lonely world, the only person she texted on a day-to-day basis, was probably sleeping. It was 1:00 AM, so it wouldn’t surprise her. But she hadn’t been able to sleep.

 **Sara:** Hey, are you awake?

Sadly, she accepted that he most likely wasn’t. Besides that, she didn’t really think she had the energy to consistently respond. All day, she had just sort of grieved on behalf of herself. The guilt wasn’t leaving her. Suddenly her train of thought jumped elsewhere at the sight of a notification at the top of her phone.

 **< 3<3neal<3<3**: You bet. Here’s a pic to prove it

Sara was glad to see he was awake at first. That didn’t last too long once she noticed the questionable selfie Neal seemingly took in the dark. 

**Sara:** Okay, thanks Neal. 

Sara brooded over the message he'd sent for a moment. God, she knew he hadn't heard the news, so she shouldn't blame him. But she was so annoyed that he was barraging her with unwarranted quirky selfies. Pouring salt into the wound, Neal texted her again.

 **< 3<3neal<3<3**: Wanna prove to me that you're also awake?

Somehow, Neal made her feel worse rather than better. She had texted him seeking some philosophical guidance, some emotional support. Neal wanted her to immediately send a selfie -- which, although he could not know, would consist of her puffy, makeup drenched face. _I’m never fucking wearing mascara again,_ Sara noted. 

**Sara:** I don’t think so.

The moment she typed the message and sent it, she regretted it. It felt impulsive, and it probably was. To soften the harshness of her rejection, she added on.

 **Sara:** I’m sorry.

 **< 3<3neal<3<3**: Sara, is something wrong?

 **Sara:** Well… you remember Dr. Doofenshmirtz?

 **< 3<3neal<3<3**: That evil scientist guy who is in your recurring nightmares? In which he dresses as you, wig and all?

 **Sara:** No need to add all of that extra stuff. But yes. And, now that I know you remember, he died today.

 **< 3<3neal<3<3**: Oh god Sara I’m so sorry! Do you want to meet and talk about it?

Contemplating that option, Sara imagined it: a stroll in the park, under the dark night and shining moon. Listening to the quiet chirping of nocturnal life, water and dirt accumulating on their sneakers from the wet grass. And on the swingset, they’d hold hands, gently swinging in the chilly stillness. Sara would leap from the swingset, slapping against the wet bark mulch and laughing about it. And she’d look up from the ground at Vanessa still in the swingset, lovingly giggling at Sara -- wait, Vanessa?

 **< 3<3neal<3<3**: Sara?

Flustered, and nervous, Sara’s fingers trembled as she tried to type a response. Her sudden intrusive thought about Vanessa Doofenshmirtz, a girl she’s interacted with very few times, who was also the daughter of the man she felt accountable for the death of, was still lingering on her mind. Deciding that seeing Neal might help, she answered with a confirmation.

 **Sara:** I’ll walk over to that park by my house. You know the one. Be there soon, okay? 

Neal’s response was almost instant.

 **< 3<3neal<3<3**: Got it! I will!

So with that, Sara locked her lowly charged phone and slipped it into her pocket. She’d been wearing her comfortable, favored pair of socks already, so she only needed to put on a pair of shoes. She quietly, very carefully opened her closet and grabbed a warm and rain-repellent coat. Each movement she made around the house required extra deliberation; Sara refused to be caught. _I don’t know what about sneaking out at night is so alluring and romantic,_ Sara thought with a careful step outside of her room.

Milo’s snores could be heard from his room. They were so soft and sweet that they nearly made Sara forget what he had just witnessed. _Milo saw it before me… I really hope he’ll be okay._

Opening the front door was possibly the most difficult challenge that came with sneaking out. With extreme precision, Sara wrapped her right hand around the doorknob, slowly but swiftly turning it, and then levelling her left hand on its wall to stifle the sound it made when she pulled it open. And in closing it, she replicated the process, the slightest slip of the finger detrimental to the operation.

Thankfully, it was a success, and Sara lightly ran through the murky, light fog that had set in the night. Well, Sara was aware that it was technically the morning of the next day, but she hated thinking about it that way. Her sneakers patted against the cracked pavement and provided a soothing ambience along the way. Surrounded by darkness and fog, Sara felt more scared than she realized she would. But suddenly, a mechanism in her brain activated, reminding her of the slim odds that something will happen. And then Murphy’s law combatted it, trying to make her paranoid. 

Nearing the entrance of the park, seeing the grass and trees in a large circle with a sidewalk surrounding them, Sara felt confident that tonight was going to be a good night.

And here’s why not.


	4. Lovesick Fool

Quickly leaping through the park’s gates, Sara hollered at the silhouette she knew was Neal standing in the bark mulch. Neal shifted in the distance, turning around to wave at Sara.

“Hey! Come here!” he yelled.

“How did you get here before me?” Sara yelled back, laughing. She made her way towards him, feeling the chill wind shoot around her as she ran. After a brief dash, she was face-to-face with Neal.

“That’s for me to know, and for you to speculate,” Neal replied, his smile distinguishable even in the heavy darkness.

“Wow, so mysterious, nerd-boy.”

“Rich coming from you, nerd-girl.” Neal retorted, beginning to slowly get even closer to Sara. The moon ominously loomed right above him as he settled his hands on Sara’s shoulders. An unexpected look of discomfort appeared on Neal’s face. “Uh, did you forget to redo your hair and makeup? I could’ve given you more time to prepare…” he said apologetically.

It struck Sara as off-putting that he was concerned about her dripping mascara at what was now almost 2:00 AM. She gawked at him in awe of his disrespectful “concern”. Neal seemed to notice that Sara took offense.

“Oh, wait, Sara, disregard that! I know you gotta be sad… since uh… because um…”

“Doofenshmirtz died,” Sara whispered with tears in her glossy eyes.

“W-Wait, don’t think about that, I’m sorry!” Neal apologized once again. What originally disguised itself as romance melted away, leaving behind only desire. Sara realized that Neal wasn’t here to support her. Her hands reached up to her shoulders, grabbing at Neal’s and peeling them off. He frowned, the moon still hovering behind him and giving him a glowing lining.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s um… swing for a bit, okay? And talk. I’d like to talk, if that’s okay,” Sara faltered, her freed fingers trembling with unease. 

“Can do.” Neal said with a solemn sigh. They both sat in the two swing seats, gently kicking themselves forward for propulsion. And as they swung, Neal’s arm reached out for Sara’s. Her eyes stared at it for a moment, wondering what she should do. Weakly, her own arm reached back, clinging to his.

“I wished Doofenshmirtz would go away, but now he has. This is probably like some cruel twist on the law of attraction…” Sara mused aloud, insinuating in a broken whimper that she killed Doofenshmirtz.

Neal’s concern was made clear as he turned his head to the side, admiring Sara. “Sara, you _didn’t_ do this. You couldn’t have known,” He assured her. Although he only wanted to comfort Sara, and was trying his best to do so, something about her arm intertwined with his between the swings felt false. It felt like a crumbling foundation. She anxiously foresaw their arms crashing apart against an especially heavy skyward push. She saw herself crashing into the wet bark mulch, and instead of laughing, she would cry with a betrayed expression. “Sara?!!”

“Huh? What?” Sara murmured, returning to reality as her eyes focused again. She looked to her right, seeing Neal worriedly staring at her.

“You weren’t saying anything,” Neal told her sadly, squeezing her right arm lightly with his left hand. 

“I was just imagining our beautiful babies,” Sara lied unconvincingly, her voice weak with insincerity. 

“Hah, yeah. We’ll name them cool things for sure. Hopefully, they’ll have their mother’s eyes.” Neal said sweetly. But Sara didn’t feel so good about that outlook. Again, the moon’s light pulled her attention in. Sara had not noticed the slowing of their swings as they came to a halt. She also hadn’t noticed her intertwined arm being set free. A sudden sensation of warm air hitting her cheek brought her back for the second time. Neal was coming into her face, his eyes closed, his lips puckered…

With increasing panic, Sara’s palm wrapped around Neal’s extremely close cheek, and pushed it away. He fell to the ground in alarm, smacking against the wet, dark brown bark mulch. “Ow! What the heck…?” Neal hissed unconsciously as he wriggled on the ground in pain. _Oh my God,_ Sara thought to herself miserably. She whipped out of the swing, taking a moment to register what she had actually just done to Neal. And she couldn’t understand why, but this feeling of wrongness had enveloped her as he had tried to kiss her.

“I’m sorry, Neal,” She cried, sprinting into the large, open darkness. She dashed between the lowly lit homes, recognizing general landmarks that led to the Murphy house. The fog made it hard to discern where things were and how far, but she managed it, eventually returning home. At the front door, she more quickly repeated her operation, haphazardly locking and closing it behind her, springing into her bedroom. She didn’t slam her door shut, she just forcefully slapped it hard enough to close it without pushing it in manually. Both of her feet travelled to the other foot, pulling her shoes off flexibly and thrusting them onto her bedroom carpet. Her body plunged exhaustedly into her bed. 

Feeling the familiar, sunken shape of her resting body indented in the mattress, Sara returned to the same pose she had assumed before meeting with Neal. Her tired, groggy brain forced itself asleep, her dull headache providing mental percussion that lulled her to bed. 

**< 3<3neal<3<3:** Is everything alright?

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** Are you breaking up with me

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** Please answer your texts

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** We can stream Dr. Zone and Skype call

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** Sara…

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** Well, just know that I’m going to be awake all morning for you. Won’t sleep so you can always text. Promise

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** Can’t sleep :c

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** Sara?

 **< 3<3neal<3<3:** I love you, Sara.


	5. Repudiation

Milo rolled out of bed in his sleep, thudding against the ground. He awoke to the sight of his room, vaguely lit by the dark blue sky. The light was so vague that it was comparable to early nighttime. It depressed Milo to look at the indiscernible, indistinguishable objects in his room. 

He rose lazily from his back, using his arms to get up off of the floor. Once sitting upwards, he continued to look into the sky that glowed in dark blue tones, pouring somber light into his room. Wet, dark winter mornings made him sad. But hopefully Melissa and Zack would meet him, and they’d all trudge around the worms outside. He bet that it’d be raining all day.

Gathering all of his energy, Milo stood to his feet. He went over to his closet and pulled a fresh replica of the outfit he was currently wearing. In the blue darkness, the colors were muted, drained of the vibrance they showed in daylight. Or any light. 

Sighing, Milo got dressed. A rumble of his stomach indicated to him that he should hurry, and eat breakfast. Listening to his body, Milo left the room with his backpack and the like, going over to the fridge. Even the rest of the Murphy house had that blue dimness, the once colorful house in dull shades of blue, black, and grey. It was crazy to Milo how when he opened the fridge, the nearby illuminated area was temporarily restored its true colors. He lamented for a moment, but grabbed a wrapped turkey and cheese sandwich on whole wheat bread. Surely, his favorite food item, whether it was generic or not.

“Doofenshmirtz? Wanna split my sandwich?” Milo yelled into the quiet house, absent of sound and warm color. No response came. 

“Doof?” Milo asked once again. Closing the fridge, he brought his wrapped sandwich with him as he looked around the house. Floorboards screeched and wailed as he stepped around. He went upstairs to ask Sara where Doofenshmirtz went, hoping she’d know. Milo gently knocked at Sara’s door.

“What?” Sara rasped from behind the door. It wasn’t a sleepy rasp, it sounded more like a throaty, crying rasp. “Milo, please just go to school…”

“You aren’t going?” Milo asked with obvious disappointment, his hands feeling along the door. 

“Maybe… not today,” she said, as though she were embarrassed to admit it. Perhaps she was embarrassed, unable to effectively go to school over her grief. But Milo had to ask her something again.

“Where’s Doofenshmirtz?” he said innocently.

It was a long time until any sounds came from the other side of the door at all. After what felt like endless silence, shuffling outside of blankets could be heard. The doorknob rattled, and there Sara was, standing tall and looking down on her little brother. Her eyes were eerily lit with a spark Milo had never seen in them before. The emotion it conveyed seemed so alien to her. “Where’s… Doofenshmirtz… ?” Sara sobbed, repeating the question, her head of messy untamed hair shaking.

Milo wanted to nod, to say “yes, that was the question”, but the truth began to set in. Painful droplets became streams down his cheeks. “I thought it was all a nightmare…” And his explanation wasn’t unbelievable. Sara realized, with a look of guilt, that her brother was still very young. Still so new to life and its happenings, still so naive and easily manipulated. She opened her arms to him, letting him collapse against her for a moment to sniffle and derive a small amount of comfort from her touch. Her arms wrapped around his back, and her hands patted it. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Milo. It’s gonna be okay,” she promised, hoping that, even though she believed it was horrible to hope, Doofenshmirtz did not have too big of a role in Milo’s life. 

“Thanks, Sara.” He said, slipping out of the embrace and clutching his squished sandwich. He didn’t mind it being squished; Murphy’s law had rendered food literally inedible in the past. Milo ran downstairs, to the slightly more lit table still enveloped in tones of dim blue. He ate his turkey and cheese sandwich, allowing crumbs to slip from it onto the table. Normally, as he always tried to be responsible, he’d clean them, but he knew his mom would understand.

Stepping out the front door, he recalled what he now confirmed wasn’t a nightmare. He remembered his mom and dad abandoning the groceries to console them, he remembered his mother whispering prayers to him. He remembered his dad telling him all the things to look forward to, and all of the things the family had planned. It made Milo feel a mixture of things, the most prominent being love and grief.

Zack and Melissa met him, accompanied by the strong morning shades. Melissa spoke first. “Hey, buddy. We saw what happened by your house…” She seemed unable to delicately traverse the topic to her friend who remained as still as stone, motionally and emotionally. 

“And we hope you’re doing all right. Let’s forget school, and get some frozen yogurt…” Zack insisted.

What Milo was actually still about was not simply Doofenshmirtz. He had been squinting into the distance, obviously thinking about something. There was something off to Milo, and he was mentally searching for it. Something wasn’t just off… it was missing. 

It was missing when Zack and Melissa took their silent friend safely across the street, took him into the yogurt shop with whole, affordable amounts of yogurt that were not carried away or stolen. It was missing when they walked through the loud districts of downtown without trouble, and partook in silly activities that would usually be difficult. 

“Murphy’s law." Milo whispered in a batting cage that Melissa and Zack had paid to use. He said it again, louder, more frantically, “Murphy’s law!”

Zack and Melissa stopped what they were doing, observing their friend, their own hearts beating in mutual understanding. “It’s gone.” Melissa said, realizing that for the first time all day.


	6. Absence

The friends who had witnessed and experienced the effects of Murphy’s law were in awe at the realization. “It’s over, just like that?” Zack asked, wiping his forehead anxiously.

“I don’t think it’s ‘over’.” Melissa clarified, dropping her baseball bat to the ground. The clanging of metal against pavement echoed harshly throughout the batting cages. It was the hot new place at the mall, and the two friends assumed it’d cheer Milo up. 

“Oh well,” Milo sighed, his eyes beady with hurt. “Things change.”

“Milo, cheer the heck up!” Melissa snapped, walking over to him and shaking his limp shoulders. He gave no reaction, offered no sign of acknowledgement or understanding.

Zack followed after her, snapping his fingers in Milo’s face. “Snap out of it dude, you’re giving me the creeps!” He spat. Nothing seemed to bring Milo back; it was as though in acknowledging that Murphy’s law was gone, Milo left too. No amount of games, of fun or play, seemed to revive the cheerful fire that once burned inside of him. And it broke Melissa and Zack’s hearts.

“Buddy, come on, please!” Melissa begged, her voice losing its edge and becoming fraught with anguish. A glimmer of remorse flashed in Milo’s eyes, convincing Melissa not to give up. “I have a theory, but I can only prove it if you stop possessing the demeanor of a wet noodle!” 

Still staring into the distance, Milo let out a sigh. Zack spoke now, equally motivated. “Whatever is happening in your head, Milo, I swear we care. And Melissa’s right, you gotta stop acting like a wet noodle!” 

“I’ve never seen him so… down,” Melissa admitted, her mouth forming into a somber frown.

“It makes me sad to watch,” Zack said in agreement. 

It was like their friend had been stolen from them and replaced by an animated statue. Allowing themselves to get used to it would be a horrifying injustice to their old friend. Melissa and Zack vowed to make the once-peppy Milo return to his former self. Melissa grabbed Milo and dragged him away like he was a wheeled suitcase. And funnily enough, he was capable of being moved like one.

They brought their still friend Milo to the lake, so they could all feed the ducks. They remembered him once longingly saying he wished he could feed ducks, but didn’t want to put animal in harm's way (Murphy’s law). He watched emptily at his friends throwing food to the aggressively hungry ducks. They quacked and snapped. Milo still said nothing.

“Please. Milo.” Melissa sighed after throwing her out last bread piece, wishing for everything to go back to normal. She wished to be pursued by danger in the face of Murphy’s law, she wished to hear Milo’s squeaky voice confirm the lie that “everything would be okay.” How the roles have been changed. Although Zack and Melissa knew that Milo was sad, they began to reconsider his personality without the addition Murphy’s law. With it, he seemed like a trooper, but if he maintained the happy attitude without it he’d seem overly optimistic.

Melissa found herself on the verge of an epiphany, a critical realization that would drastically change the interpretation of the situation. “I know why Murphy’s law isn’t active,” she said half-honestly. Zack’s own amusement and surprise was much more vivid than Milo’s subtle glance. “Milo, you’re letting it think it won. It’s not doing anything because your normal chipper outlook has faded. Murphy’s law responds to your mood, according to my theory. You tempt fate when you put up a fight, and right now, you’re not putting up a fight _at all._ ” Her throat ached in the admittance of that last part. 

Zack seemed convinced, but Milo himself didn’t react quite as intensely. But, as if coerced by Melissa’s confident friendship, Milo’s old self peeked out. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I bet so,” she confidently exclaimed with a nod, relieved to see her friend speaking again.

“Huh, that’s an interesting theory, Melissa. Wouldn’t it make more sense if--” Milo was cut off by a giant boulder falling in the distance. As he looked at it, he saw it coming their way, gaining deadly speed.

“You’re back!” Zack and Melissa said happily, hugging Milo while simultaneously skipping out of the way of the rock.

“Wait, but I didn’t get to feed the ducks!” Milo complained hilariously as his friends nudged him out of the boulder’s path. 

“There’s no time,” Zack grunted, heaving as he jumped out of the way the rock that nearly trampled his comparably frail body. 

Everyone began laughing together, as though on a connected impulse. Really, Melissa was so happy to see Milo and Murphy’s law restored again. _The most exciting thing in my life isn’t gone after all,_ she thought with a petty smirk. Little did she know, Zack shared the silly relief at the same level. _My reason to regularly miss class remains,_ he appreciated silently.

But Milo was more relieved than either of his friends. Because Milo was relieved that no matter how many boulders headed his way, that no matter how many storms dampened his days, that no matter how many buildings he demolished, he’ll always have his friends and family. Even if one person leaves, families can adapt and grow instead of shrink. Milo optimistically promised himself, holding his friends’ hands, that he would make a big, happy family that triumphed over anything.

Especially Murphy’s law.


	7. First Impression

Messages remained unsent. Texts remained unanswered. In her bed, which was now starting to feel unclean from her ruminating, Sara deeply looked at her phone screen. There was nothing she could say to Neal; his chain of fifty-eight texts alarmed her. The utter shamelessness of it kept her reading whatever appeared in her notifications bar. And it had her thinking about him in a way she never had before.

Birds chirped from outside her bedroom window. She listened to them, trying to distance herself from her own body. From her own issues and experiences. Sara wished she could be one of those birds, worrying only about a short but flight-filled life. Instead of this one, where she found herself becoming sessile, attached to her own bed.

Sara went to her comfort bookmark on her phone. That being the Time Ape tag on AO3. Upon refreshing it, she saw two new works. One was a shameless smut fanfic between Time Ape and a female character whom existed in only three episodes. The other was a sickfic. Neither of these pleased her, and she closed the chrome tab to maintain neatness. 

More message notifications surfaced at the top of her phone. Unhappily, Sara slid down the bar, reading them. 

**< 3<3neal<3<3**: Please, Sara, I just want to talk. I need to know that you’re alright.

The other one was rendered unviewable in the notification bar. However, Sara refused to read them in the app, due to it letting Neal see that she had read them. Sara’s stomach then growled from not eating anything, having been in her room all day. Her throat also ached from thirst, and she had been holding a lot of pee in since last night. It was probably time for her to come out of her cave. After all, she was running out of tasteful Dr. Zone fics. 

And she was about to take a hollow, exhausted, groggy step out of her bedroom. Until she heard the distant sound in another room of an unfamiliar female voice. Sara leaned her frail, messy-haired head to the door, listening intently and suppressing her distracting breathing. 

“Um, he listed you guys on the will already, so… so I guess you must be really nice people,” the unfamiliar voice murmured faintly outside the room.

“Oh, honey…” It was Sara’s mom, speaking in what was meant to be a comforting voice.

Overwhelmed, worried about intruding on whatever was occurring outside of her room, Sara mulled on the decision to leave. On one hand, she was extremely hungry, to the point her stomach felt like it was cramping. On the other, walking into a group of people talking about Doofenshmirtz’s will made her feel sick. Was peeing, eating, and drinking really worth it?

Sara’s body would murder her if she answered, “no.” Accepting what she must do, she opened her door with care, closing it delicately. Humorously, Sara’s family members turned their heads to the freshly shut door. All eyes on her, Sara brought her hands to her cheeks, mortified. And there, in the center of all of those staring faces, was Vanessa Doofenshmirtz. It felt like a harp began to play in Sara’s heart; the chords of the harp were softly plucked with each pounding thump. “H-Hello, all,” Sara stammered. Then she realized what she must look like. _Oh God, I gotta fucking brush my hair, what the fuck is wrong with me,_ she mentally spat obscenities. As smoothly as she could, she walked down the hall to the bathroom, effectively escaping the gaze of her family and Vanessa.

Inside of the bathroom, Sara first grabbed a makeup towelette. She wiped away old, crusty makeup with hard-pressed rubs. She removed whatever she could from her face. Next, she popped and cleaned a prominent whitehead pimple that had been bothering her. Preparing for the last task, she shook a bottle of expensive dry shampoo very swiftly. Once it was well-shaken, she sprayed it at an appropriate distance, using slightly above the necessary amount. Letting it sit in her roots for thirty seconds, she sat on the toilet and distanced her legs animalistically, peeing as fast as possible. She replaced a pad that she’d been wearing and returned to the sink, washing her hands.

With her washed hands, she grabbed her brush and began to brush out the demonic mess on her head. It had gotten so bad from her self-neglect that seeing it go back to normal felt like vanquishing a renowned villain. Tasting her own dirty breath and cringing at it, Sara thoroughly brushed and rinsed her teeth. Finally, she used some mango flavored lip gloss (while also childishly consuming some). Seeing herself physically restored was very good for her psyche. Now that all of that was over, she opened the bathroom door, and tried to walk down the stairs with purpose.

What Sara realized too late was that trying to look cool while you walk has the opposite effect. She ended up slipping on the second-to-last step, loudly saving herself with her hands with a gasp of surprise.

“Sara, are you okay?” Martin, her dad, called out from the kitchen. 

Vanessa, who was closest, bent down to help Sara up. “Here,” she said to complement her offer.

Sara was not capable of viewing herself in third-person. Although, she imagined that if she could, she’d see hearts in her own eyes. Sara bashfully took the help from Vanessa, incredibly embarrassed that she had seen her trip and fall. “Thanks a lot,” Sara said in a gracious, smitten dizziness.

“Don’t mention it,” Vanessa told her with an apathetic expression, walking back to the Murphy parents. For some reason, Sara swore a smile had concealed itself.

As Sara’s phone buzzed twice with what was predictably Neal’s newest pity party, she went into the kitchen. First, before she got down to eating anything, she knew she needed water. She opened the fridge with a reserved pull. Two water bottles remained in the side-door. She took one, walked over to the bin of water bottles, and put four more in the fridge. Afterwards, she moved around the food inside to look for hidden edible treasures.

Minutes later, Sara pulled out a surplus of uneaten veggies purchased when the Murphy parents last went grocery shopping. Selectively, Sara removed some celery, broccoli, and sweet peppers. She cut a sweet pepper up, as well as two celery stalks. She grabbed a large broccoli floret, ripping it off, and she arranged it all aesthetically on a plate. The appearance lost its sightliness with the addition of a big blob of ranch. (Not on the food, just near it.) Before she could let herself eat, she began to put everything away. 

“Mind sharing?” Vanessa’s voice asked. Sara turned around, unintentionally pointing the ranch bottle at Vanessa, and proceeding to _squeeze ranch out all over her._

“Oh my… I’m so sorry, I can’t believe that just happened, that is so not cool, holy shit, I’m really sorry,” Sara messily and profusely apologized. The bottle shook in her hands like a gun she had just used to shoot Vanessa to death.

Vanessa’s eyes were clamped shut. Her mouth was forming a frown. Chuckling nervously, she tried not to seethe, “Uh, don’t worry about it.”

Sara _was_ worried about it. She set the ranch down on the counter. She hurriedly grabbed a towel from a nearby downstairs closet, getting one third of it wet. Running, she came to Vanessa, who stood still, and wiped the ranch off of her face cleanly with the wet part of the towel. Once she had completely cleaned all of the ranch off, she used the dry part of the towel to remove the dampness it brought to Vanessa’s skin.

“Ok, I think it’s um, all gone, probably,” Sara whimpered dramatically, tears in her throat, heart sunken with disappointment in herself. 

Free to open her eyes, Vanessa shot them open, looking down at the kneeling Sara who was now wiping down the ranch-caked floor. “Sorry for scaring you, dude,” Vanessa said in pity of the girl who treated herself like Cinderella. There was just a lack of self-confidence and self-love she could detect in Sara Murphy.

“It was my fault.” 

“Yeesh, and I thought Milo and I had a case of Murphy’s law,” her dad joked as he walked into the kitchen.

Cowering at the image Sara had of herself in her mind, she couldn’t bear to look at Vanessa or her dad. She was way too ashamed of spraying ranch all over her and the ground.

“It’s okay, dude, really. My dad died, getting ranch all over myself isn’t nearly as bad as that,” Vanessa said in an attempt to comfort Sara. It backfired, making Sara feel worse, her fingers bunching into the ranch towel. Tears streamed and fell from her reddening cheeks. She released some breathy sobs, remembering that she still could not shake her sense of guilt in Heinz Doofenshmirtz’s passing. “Hey, please…” Vanessa knelt down to Sara’s level, patting and rubbing her upper back as she cried over the towel.

It was as embarrassing as it was awful. Not only was Sara crying about ranch that she squirted all over their houseguest, the houseguest had much more of reason to rest on all fours whilst crying her heart out. 

“Sara, honey…” Martin Murphy cooed, watching Vanessa console his sobbing daughter.

“Please, dude, let’s go eat that stuff on the counter. You don’t have to cry anymore…” Vanessa told her.

Sara was convinced, and felt she had gotten all the emotions out: the guilt (towards Neal and Doofenshmirtz), the fear (of judgement and disapproval), and the sorrow (towards Vanessa and her father.) _Why did I let them see me do that,_ Sara griped. As she stood up, she wiped away her tears, absentmindedly getting a smudge of ranch on right cheek. "Okay everyone, I’m so sorry for doing that,” Sara said, repeating herself. She went to the counter and grabbed the plate of cut veggies. 

She went to the table, urging Vanessa to follow. They sat down and snacked together. It was cathartic, too, but not nearly as cathartic as the tears Sara released. 

“So, how are things?” Sara tried to ask, regretting what she said immediately. Specifically the way it came out. 

Vanessa finished chewing and swallowing a pepper piece before replying. “Oh, you know. The unusual. My dad died at your guys’ house, and I heard about it at two in the morning from a text message. Now I’m in charge of the will, except your mom is technically my supervisor.” 

“Wow,” Sara said after a hasty swallow, “That sounds like… a lot.”

“It is,” Vanessa confirmed, “It really is. But I want to limit my grieving.”

Sara tried to think of something to say, something to discourage that last comment. She ate hungrily as she thought about how she didn’t think that it was reasonable to avoid grief. In fact, she knew it wasn’t, as it’d all accumulate and come out somehow. “You deserve to be sad. It’s your dad, sis,” Sara slipped out bravely.

“Oh…” Vanessa responded with a cherry blush. She seemed endeared by the attention to her personal and emotional needs. 

“Um, I mean, did you not just see me cry in a pile of ranch on the kitchen floor just now?” Sara managed to joke, receiving a snort from Vanessa. 

“Ha, you are funny. And sweet.”

“I-I am? I am!” Sara replied, her heart and mind dazzled with the compliment. “You’re really pretty,” she told Vanessa honestly, lost in her beautiful face.

The two continued eating veggies and ranch, eventually topping it all off with oranges, apples, and some greek yogurt. It was a good eating and talking session. And it was nice for Sara to have a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with Neal. Even Vanessa was feeling happier. She was happy that something, or rather, _someone_ , could minimize the pain she felt knowing her dad was gone from the world.

A startling, loud knock at the door drew Sara away from the table. She waved at Vanessa, courteously announcing that she’d get it. Vanessa followed after her anyway, curiosity getting the best of her. Sara threw her arm out to the door with spastic aggression, swinging it open. Her confrontational demeanor faded when she saw a hulking police officer. The sound of her beating heart almost engulfed her ears, so she could hardly her herself as she faltered, “Hello?”

“Is there a ‘Sara Murphy’ here?” The officer asked in his husky, deep voice.

Trembling, and acknowledging that Vanessa seemed mutually terrified, Sara replied, “This is she.” 

The police officer nodded, pulling something out of his pocket. It was a folded up paper - pure white, like those used for printing. He reached out and gave it Sara. “I think Heinz Doofenshmirtz wanted you to have this,” he said solemnly, receiving a look of disbelief from both Vanessa and Sara.

“D-D-Dear Sara Murphy… I know it hasn’t been easy on you l-lately…” Sara stuttered as she realized in a single moment what was going on. “No, no, this isn’t meant for me,” she insisted, her body heavy, feet glued to her spot. The unfortunate situation became more unfortunate when Vanessa seemed to think she had solved some sort of mystery.

“That’s why you got so sad when I mentioned my dad. You weren’t crying about that ranch incident, it was because you loved him too,” Vanessa falsely deduced with a heartfelt tremor in her voice.

In the heat of the moment, and under the pressure of a girl that she liked and a police officer’s gaze, Sara lied. “Yeah, a-actually, Dr. Doofenshmirtz and I were super close. We were like. Best friends,” she said as she shifted her gaze to Vanessa.

Vanessa’s eyes were believing, they were trusting, faith in her new friend clear. Lying to those eyes filled Sara with guilt, but she didn’t know how to explain the real situation. She didn’t know if she wanted to disappoint Vanessa by saying that it wasn’t true, that it was a letter to herself that Heinz nosily pocketed. Sara didn't want to extinguish the flickering flame of hope burning in Vanessa’s eyes.

“Thanks for giving this to me. I… miss him so much,” Sara breathily told the officer.

With a salute, he said with a smug pride, “No problem, pretty missy.” It struck Sara as strange how he spoke to her. 

However, it didn't strike Vanessa as strange, who recalled upon her father’s words. _She’s sixteen!_ Her father echoed in her head. To respect him, and her friend Sara, Vanessa growled, “Hey dude! She’s sixteen!” She said, slamming the door in his face to punctuate the warning. 

“I’m actually seventeen,” Sara corrected Vanessa, flattered nonetheless. 

“Oops, sorry.”

“Don’t even worry about it.”

“So, um. You knew my dad? He wrote that letter to you?” Vanessa asked, holding her hands out to Sara like a begging child. 

Turning to the side, facing Vanessa, Sara confirmed, “Yes. Best friends. Me and him.” She was sweating profusely as she handed the letter to Vanessa.

“Mhm, you keep saying that,” Vanessa mumbled, taking the letter to examine. She unfolded it and read it. But it seemed as though reading it was perplexing her. Something was off-putting to Vanessa; the way it read didn’t remind her of her goofy father. Sara wasn’t sure how Vanessa was interpreting the letter. “This is so weird. It doesn’t even sound like Dad,” Vanessa said in a voice of despair. 

“He had this way of words he was always scared to show the world. Especially you,” Sara reasoned, brushing a hand through her hair anxiously. 

“... ‘Even in the darkest moments’... who said this? Whose father wrote this?” Vanessa cried, even more upset than before.

“Apparently, yours.”

“No. It couldn’t be.”

“It is,” Sara assured her. And in assuring Vanessa that it was, she felt as though she had dug her own grave. She got down and laid in it. It would only be a matter of time until it filled slowly with dirt, suffocating Sara to death.

“Girls! We rented a horror movie if you’d like to watch it,” Mama Murphy interrupted the dramatic interaction in a declining volume level.

“And we are off to bed, so don’t scream too loud, my sweets!” Martin laughed his way upstairs.

“If you see anything of your father’s, feel free to take it,” Mama Murphy told Vanessa, finalizing their leave.

A door closed upstairs. Vanessa and Sara looked into each others’ eyes. “Want to watch whatever movie they rented?” Sara asked in a more lifted manner, holding her head up a bit higher.

“I’d rather die. Besides, I bet it’s not even scary,” Vanessa said with an icy stare.

“Haha, yeah, true,” Sara agreed, albeit not agreeing at all. Many things terrified her, scary movies definitely included.

“I got a better idea!” Vanessa exclaimed, dashing swiftly through the hall, enticing Sara ahead. They reached the television set the large shelf of DVDs and tapes next to it. To Sara’s surprise, Vanessa picked up a Sesame Street DVD and put it in. “This will be so fucking funny,” Vanessa swore, sitting on the floor and pressing play whilst Sara stood in bewonderment.

“If my Dad liked you, you probably have the stupid sense of humor he and I have,” Vanessa claimed boldly.

“Pshhh! Sure! We just… laughed at it _all_ , you know?” Sara said in a forced fit of laughter.

Sitting on the floor, and glaring unblinkingly at Sara, Vanessa answered, “I really don’t.”


	8. The Best Medicine

The TV crackled with that familiar electrical current that turning it on summoned. Sara was cozily laying against the expensive Murphy couch, resting against the throw pillows and plush blanket. “I swear, this is the nicest thing we own,” she half-jokingly chortled to Vanessa. Her true motive for saying this was to lure Vanessa to the couch rather than the carpeted floor. 

“I can’t remember the nicest thing that my Dad owned. He tore many of our things up to create inators,” Vanessa laughed. But not like she was genuinely seeing the humor in what she had said, and more like she needed the laugh to keep going. 

Sara warmly smiled at Vanessa’s remark; on the inside she worried how to reply as though she knew Doofenshmirtz. “We didn’t always understand the silly things he did, either,” Sara chuckled finally.

“Yeah, like sending you letters from inside the same house,” Vanessa said nonchalantly. 

It burned Sara on the inside to hear that, and she worried Vanessa was skeptical of her. “Oh! Look! It’s starting,” she excitedly changed the subject. The _Sesame Street_ opening silently rolled. Heart rolling with a mix of joy and anticipation, Sara patted the couch cushion beside her. “Sit over here!” she recommended.

“Fine,” Vanessa said as she smiled coyly. Her eyes glimmered with the yellow light of the dim lamp reflected inside of them. Those bright yellow-orange beads made Sara swoon. Her gaze followed Vanessa as she came to the couch and sat down into it. There was a delighted expression on Vanessa’s face, too. It comforted Sara.

As it began, Elmo started soundlessly opening his mouth. Vanessa nudged Sara, her face indicating that she wanted Sara to dub over what would originally be said. “U-Uh, heya folks, it’s me, your dear old friend Elmo. Today, I bought some weed like a _big_ b-boy,” Sara had said in the silliest, craziest voice ever, breaking into wild laughter over the ridiculous last part.

“And I’m Elmo’s drug dealer, pistachio,” Vanessa grunted in a constipated voice at Oscar’s appearance on-screen. Sara was barely restraining tears once Vanessa said that.

“Old pal, can’t you spare me some grass in these trying times?” Sara stuttered a bit as she cried these words in her “Elmo” voice. “I’m sorry, I can’t, _pistachio?_ ” she giggled, out of breath.

“Speak for yourself. Your ‘Elmo’ voice sounds like a dying baby,” Vanessa retorted, suppressing her own rambunctious giggles with a palm hovering in front of her mouth. 

The two continued to badly dub over the _Sesame Street_ characters, laughing most of the way. That is until Mama Murphy marched down the stairs and strolled into the living room with lightning speed. “Girls,” she said, eyes red and hair in curlers, “I can hear you. I don’t want to tell you two to go to bed, but… _go to bed._ ” Mama Murphy sassily switched the television set off and walked tiredly back upstairs.

Unease settled over the two girls as they cringed at being scolded at. By Sara’s mother, nonetheless. “I’m sorry…” Sara apologized grimly. 

“No, no don’t be,” Vanessa said reassuringly, looking at her crestfallen new friend. “C’mon, we can just go outside,” she offered. To Sara, that didn’t seem like such a good idea. Currently, the outside air was clearly freezing as it was even cold inside. She couldn’t imagine trekking out there on the sole purpose of being able to freely laugh ‘til her heart was content, as tempting as that sounded. 

Instead of going outside, the two realized that Mama Murphy was justified in lecturing them. The clock read that it was _one forty-five in the morning._ “Wow, time really flew by,” Sara said in acknowledgement of their feat. “Do you have somewhere to be?” she asked Vanessa with tired eyes, although wishing that it wasn’t true, and that Vanessa could reasonably stay.

Which is why Vanessa replying, “Nah. We go to the same school,” made Sara so happy.

“Cool, I’ll drive us in the morning.” 

“Hey, I just remembered you’re in my P.E class,” Vanessa said with an excited smirk. “We can just skip, I’m sure it’ll barely dent our grade.” 

The idea made Sara, who had already taken this entire day off, nervous. What was better? Vanessa’s attention and company, or attending a class to maintain a good grade? “Let’s get coffee and watch Netflix on my p-phone instead,” Sara stammered in her defiance of school. Something about being with Vanessa Doofenshmirtz made her heart pound with an empowering confidence. _I hate P.E anyway, our teacher is an asshole!_ she mused flamingly. 

“So, can I crash in your room--”

“My bed's definitely big enough for both of us,” Sara blurted in accidental interruption. 

“Whoa, all right then!” Vanessa laughed at the quirky haste Sara applied to responding. Sara realized how embarrassingly eager she was with a blush. 

“Sorry, I just--”

“No, it’s fine,” Vanessa said serenely, effectively slowing down Sara’s beating heart. Sara's face returned to the normal, pale peach color that it was. She led Vanessa upstairs to her room, and once inside she turned on some Christmas lights. They shimmered a green-colored light to the rest of her room. 

She quickly remade her bed, smoothing the blankets out nearly perfectly. Her hands felt along them and pushed down the wrinkles, flattening the blanket into a soft, perfect texture. “Okay, you can lay down, um, I have to do this stuff really f-fast,” Sara stammered. Soon after, Vanessa sat on the edge of the bed and watched Sara pace through her room; Sara was collecting empty water bottles and plastic food wrappers and properly disposing of them.

“You don’t have to do that!” Vanessa couldn’t help but laugh. 

“But I want to,” Sara replied, out of breath from swiftly maneuvering around and cleaning her room. 

From the bed, Vanessa appeared to be reading something. Sara wondered what it may be. A text message from a good friend? Her _boyfriend?_ She hoped not. She began to feel the creeping tendrils of anxiety probe her chest as she was reminded of her own texts. The series of everlasting messages Neal continued to send and send. Sara’s heart fluttered with this sudden onslaught of anxiety until Vanessa noticed she had frozen in her place.

“Are you okay?” Vanessa asked. Sara reacted with a glance into Vanessa’s eyes and a forced smile.

“Mhm! I’m fine,” Sara replied.

Truthfully, Sara wasn’t fine. She was horrified by the need to answer and explain to Neal what had happened. Perhaps the reason she hadn’t done so already is the fact that she had no idea what her explanation was. _Oh God, I have to stop thinking about this,_ Sara thought with a sickly feeling in her throat. Sara cleaned the remaining bottles and garbage in her room and finally dressed into a pair of Time Ape pajamas. She slipped under her mostly neat covers and sighed at the relief being under them brought.

Plugging in and adjusting the brightness on her phone, she asked Vanessa, “So, are we going to bed?”

Vanessa thought for a moment, answering in the dim concentration of phone light and green Christmas lights, “I’m not sleepy.” It was almost two in the morning, but Sara accepted the comment anyway. The high given to them by laughing was cordially keeping them awake. If they hadn’t been laughing so much Sara’d have probably fallen asleep immediately in her bed. But she didn’t.

“Okay. What do you wanna do?” Sara asked softly in the green light as she closed her phone.

Silence followed the question until Vanessa could break it. “Let’s tell stories. About my Dad.”

A piece of Sara’s unrealistically-shaped heart shattered off and faded away. She… had no pleasant stories about Heinz Doofenshmirtz. None endearing and none affectionate. None whimsical and none humorous. But she knew those things were in the formula for a good, impactful story of remembrance. “Um, one time, I was struggling to grab some cereal off of the fridge,” Sara said as she began to weave the first threads of her untrue story.

“So uh, Doofenshmirtz, he uhhh… tried to help me. But instead of just grabbing it for me or something like that, he was like,” Sara imitated Dr. Doofenshmirtz’s voice, “he was like, ‘Oh Sara, this is the perfect opportunity to try out my resizeinator!’” Sara stammered and laughed at the story, trying to be convincing. And Vanessa _was_ convinced, it was clear enough in her anticipating eyes. “But get this -- he actually made me really fucking small! I was so scared that I was going to die, too.” Sara exclaimed, much to Vanessa’s entertainment.

Vanessa brought her thumb to the corner of her eyes, wiping away the forming tears. “God. That sounds so much like him. I m-miss him, Sara…” Sniffling, Vanessa finally began sobbing, twisting in the bed to turn away from Sara and face the wall.

Sara looked at her with great sorrow, her hands dangling in the air with uncertainty. She wanted to comfort Vanessa and didn’t know how. “Me too. It’s gonna be okay, Vanessa,” she whispered through her own tears. Her hands refused their uncertain position and gently dove into Vanessa’s unkempt hair. She ran hands through it so lovingly, the texture tickling her fingertips.

“I have a funny story about him,” Vanessa said more hopefully, allowing the misery of the moment to drift away. She lifted her head up to rest it facing the ceiling rather than the wall, her eyes so soft and shimmery in the light. Sara imagined that Vanessa’s eyes also glowed with the reflection of her father’s soul looming over her. She could only pray it was true. But perhaps it was purely Vanessa’s faithful memory of him giving off that impression. “Do you remember the DS browser?” Vanessa chuckled weakly, still staring at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Sara said, wondering why it was relevant.

Vanessa sniffled and chuckled a bit again. Containing her laughter, she started to tell a story. “When I was really little, I loved _Star Fox_ a lot. So I looked up stories for it, like on my DS, and um,” Vanessa held back a violent onslaught of giggly laughter. Sara had a concerned expression, her palm now warmly pressed against Vanessa’s wet cheek. “I was reading this fanfiction that I didn’t fully know was smut at the time, and Dad came in, and he asked what I was doing since I was s-supposed to be sleeping!” she choked out in laughter. 

“OH my GOD,” Sara wheezed, suppressing her own laughter. “What happened, what happened?” she asked breathlessly, repeating herself in hysterics.

“So he comes in and grabs my DS, and before I know it, my Dad just starts crying. Like _bawling_. And he kept asking, ‘did you read this? did you read this?’ I cried so hard. I was so embarrassed my Dad found me reading weird gay furry erotica,” Vanessa simultaneously laughed and cried.

Sara couldn’t help but fall into a series of swooping laugh-sobs. “God, oh my GOD!” she squealed at the hilarity of it all. “Gay furry EROTICA!”

“Girls.” boomed Mama Murphy from behind the sealed and locked bedroom door. “Why is this door _locked?_ ” she hissed.

“Sorry Mom, we’ll shut up and sleep now!” Sara frantically apologized. The growl of her mother’s voice was more than terrifying to her.

Embarrassed, Vanessa’s face was flushed with a different shade than before in the green Christmas lights. “Your Mom is feral, watch out,” Vanessa snickered quietly.

“Please, stop it, if-if I laugh my mom is gonna break in here and _ferally_ kill us both.” 

“I believe you, I’m sorry. Let’s go to sleep.”

“Wait, first, you have to start watching this show,” Sara insisted cutely, unlocking her phone and opening Netflix to put on the first episode of _The Umbrella Academy._


End file.
